iPod Shuffle 6
by DarkAngel0410
Summary: Some more music randomness with Punk and Colt. Slash


**Story Title:** iPod Shuffle Part 6

**Story Type: **Slash

**Characters: **CM Punk, Colt Cabana,

**Pairings: **Punk/Colt, mostly, but a couple others, too

**Rating: **PG-13/NC-17

**Series: **None

**Disclaimer: **They're not mine, unfortunately. They belong to themselves, WWE and, of course, each other.

**Warnings: **Slash, language

**A/N: **I've been having trouble concentrating on any of my stories, so I thought I'd do another shuffle. Punk and Colt wanted a go at one of these, and since they _are _my second favorite ship, I couldn't say no to them. This one is pretty short, but I only had time to do a few songs. Enjoy, peeps.

**Monster -Skillet**

Punk knew he had a temper -he also knew where he got it from, as much as he hated to think about it.

Every time he looked into the mirror, he saw his father's face. They had the same eye color, the same hair color, the same nose. And from the time Punk was old enough to look in the mirror and recognize those pieces of the man he despised, he'd hated it.

He hated that he could feel the same monster that had run his father's life in his own blood. Punk knew what it was to want something so much that you'd sacrifice for it -that you would ignore everything and everyone that wasn't connected to it; that you'd sell yourself, pieces and chunks at a time, for it.

Punk wondered sometimes if he hadn't latched onto wrestling at such a young age, would he have ended up the same as his father? Drunk, pissed off all the time, beating on whoever happened to be unlucky enough to be around him.

The idea of it scared the shit out of him, and that, along with all the similarities between them, had drove Punk to become the complete opposite of his father in every single way.

Now, when he looked in the mirror, he looked for the differences between them; they may have had the same color eyes, but Punk's were never as bloodshot as _his_ had been. Punk's face never looked as red or bloated as his father's; Punk's nose had been broken a couple times, the line of it altered if you were looking for it -and Punk did. The tattoos and piercings were visible reminders that he was his own person.

But the best reminder for him were the arms that wrapped around his waist, the comforting weight along his back and, most of all, the whispered, "You're nothing like him, Punkers. Come try and get some sleep before you leave."

The fact that Colt loved him, that he could love Colt back, were the biggest things that reminded Punk that he wasn't his father.

**Airplanes -B.O.B feat. Eminem and Hayley Williams**

It took Punk a while to realize what was going on; although he was well aware of how attractive girls found him, it had simply never occurred to him that _Colt_ was attracted to him. Punk had always assumed Colt was straight; it wasn't until he was hanging out with Hero one day that he found out different.

"Jesus, Punk, sometimes I think you're dumber then Jimmy is," Chris laughed, rolling his eyes at Punk's disbelief. "Look, maybe Colt started out straight, I don't know, but believe me when I tell you he's not any more."

"Bullshit," Punk snorted, shoving him. "Are you trying to rib me, Hero?"

Chris sighed and patted Punk on the back. "No, I wouldn't fuck around about this, Punk. Think of it this way: when has Colt had a girlfriend? Hell, when's the last time you saw him talking to a girl? Or looking at one, even.

"On the other hand, he looks at you all the time; he drops whatever he's doing if you need him -even if it's only someone to talk to when you can't sleep. And you don't see his face when ever he sees you with your new flavor of the week.

"If you don't want him that way, Punk, it's one thing, but if you do... Well, why are you still here talking to me?"

But Punk wasn't listening to him any more; instead, he was piecing together the little things he had noticed over the last five years and he was calling himself all kinds of names as he hurried to his and Colt's room.

**Girlfriend -Zebrahead**

"I'm his girlfriend, Colt," Tracy reminded him, her eyes narrowed. "I deserve to know why he's not sleeping, why he avoids it until he has no choice and passes out."

"If he wanted you to know, he would tell you," Colt said quietly, no venom in his voice. He liked Tracy, he really did, but he didn't like her with Punk. And it wasn't just Tracy; every girlfriend Punk had always ended up coming to him and asking him about Punk's past. "You're cool, Trace, but I'm not going to throw Punk under the bus and tell you something he doesn't want you to know."

"Fine," Tracy told him; she hadn't really expected Colt to tell her -love him or hate him, Colt's loyalty to Punk had never been up for debate. She just felt like she had to try and find out more about the person she was sharing a bed with. "Could you at least tell me why when he _does_ sleep, he ends up crashing in your room?"

Colt shook his head; the fact was that Punk slept in his room because he was the only who knew that Punk had nightmares -and what they were about. To Punk, it was just another thing to be ashamed about; like his father or his childhood. The truth was Punk trusted Colt more then he would ever trust any girlfriend.

"I can't, Tracy." Colt said, raising an eyebrow on the look on Punk's face as he made his way towards them.

"Fuck you, Colt," Tracy spit out, getting aggravated. "You should just start sucking his dick since you do everything else a girlfriend does."

"Hey, Tracy, I need to talk to you," Punk called out from a few feet behind her. Tracy jumped a little before she glared at Colt and turned to Punk.

Once she was walking in front of him, Punk shot Colt an apologetic look. Colt shrugged it off and nodded at him to go after her.

Tracy might have been right, but just like all the other things she didn't know about Punk, Tracy didn't realize Punk would never want to be with him. Because he trusted Colt too much. It was as simple -and complicated- as that.

**Pain -Three Days Grace**

Punk always liked a little edge with his sex -the rougher the better. He never questioned it, it was just what he wanted. One of his ex's -Maria, probably; she was always talking- had said it was a sign that his childhood had been 'rough and non-nurturing'; she had also said that it was the reason he was so emotionally distant, too. His first reaction had been, incredibly enough, laughter. The idea of the hell he had grown up in being all classified and defined had been hysterical to him. His second reaction had been more typical: disdain. There was nothing he hated more then someone assuming they knew him.

Later on, crashed on Colt's couch, eating popcorn and watching bad horror movies, Punk had brought it up.

"It's obvious she wanted me to tell her all about my 'tortured past'," Punk had sneered, disgust in his voice. He had left her at his place right after they'd gotten done fucking; he had taken off while she was in the shower. "I think I'm going to dump her soon."

"Poor Punkers," Colt had teased, leaning over and ruffling his hair. "So misunderstood." Punk had just rolled his eyes; what none of them had ever understood was that he would never tell any of them about anything -just like he never really loved them. There was only one person he trusted enough for anything like that and he was sitting across from him, stuffing popcorn into his face and laughing as Jason Voorhees sliced up another camp counselor. And, really, that was all he needed.

**Nightmare -A7X**

Punk ran into the emergency room, still in his ring gear with a t-shirt he had grabbed as he for his car.

He went down the little hallway that connected the ER to the ICU and spotted Hero sitting in one of the hard plastic chairs that were lined up against the wall, his arm in a sling.

"Chris, what the fuck happened?" Punk demanded, not even bothering to keep his voice down. "Did he get out of surgery yet?"

At the sound of his voice, Hero jumped a little, looking over in surprise. "Punk? What the fuck are you doing here already? I thought you had a show tonight."

"I got your text right before I was supposed to start," Punk told him, waving it off like he hadn't just blown off the biggest wrestling company in the world. And Chris knew, for Punk, that Colt meant more then Vince and company could ever hope to. "And I got the call from the hospital as I was getting in the car. What the fuck happened?"

Hero sighed and stood up to stretch. "We were turning off the intersection when some guy ran a red light and hit us," Chris hesitated before going on. "Cops have already been here; they told the doctor to run blood work on Colt and they did a breathalyzer on me."

"Who was driving? Colt?" Punk asked, his narrowing when Chris nodded. "That's fucken bullshit, Colt doesn't drink."

"Yeah, I know, but I think the guy who hit us was and they're covering all their bases," Hero told him, not liking the look on Punk's face.

Punk got distracted when a nurse went behind the reception area. "Do you have nay news on Scott Colton?"

"Are you family?" The nurse asked pleasantly as she started going through the charts that were on the desk.

"Not technically," Punk answered and he could hear his voice starting to crack. "But I'm listed as his emergency contact and his medical proxy on all his insurance. It should be under Phil Brooks."

"Oh, here we are," she said, pulling a cart out of the pile and flipping through it. "Well, Mr. Brooks, your friend was very lucky; there was some serious damage, but nothing he won't be able to recover from.

"Why don't you go sit down and try and relax? They're finishing up his surgery, and as his proxy, the doctor will want to speak to you. Also, I believe the police have some questions for your other friend."

Punk went back over by Hero, his heart felt like it was going to die. He tried to resigned himself to waiting, but it wasn't easy. And he knew if he ever got his hands on the asshole responsible for this, he was going to fucken murder him.

**Master And Servant -Depeche Mode**

They were in a car driving from Detroit to do a show at Ian's, Hero and Prazak passed out in the back, when the song came on.

After the first note, Punk slid his eyes over to where Colt was driving. Colt glanced over at him and raised an eyebrow. It only lasted a second but Punk recognized that gleam in his eye.

He took a deep breath, semi-hating himself for the light shudder that racked his body.

Colt glanced at the rear view mirror to make sure Hero and Prazak were still sleeping. "What's wrong, Punk?"

He used _that tone_ and, this time, there was no mistaking the shudder skittered down Punk's spine. Punk could feel his dick starting to push against his jeans and he swallowed, his breathing heavy. He shifted uncomfortably, biting his lip to hold back a moan when Colt slid his hand onto his lap.

Punk could hear his heartbeat pounding in his head, all his attention completely centered on the hand currently squeezing his cock through his jeans.

"Colt," Punk said, his tone husky and pleading. For what, he wasn't sure, but he couldn't keep it out of his voice.

Colt's hand tightened on his dick, but before he could do anything else there was a muffled yawn from the back and then Hero was bitching about the music they had on.

Punk franticly tried to get his body under control as Colt and Hero went back and forth about music. One look at Colt's profile, and the barely there smirk that was curling his lips, and Punk knew he was going to be in for it when they got to the hotel.


End file.
